


A viper in the snow

by Haroji



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Rollercoaster, F/M, Fix-It, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, brienne is depressed, im not ready for ep 5, jaime is a self hating disaster, post 8x04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 15:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18803494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haroji/pseuds/Haroji
Summary: Brienne tries not to get her hopes up. Meanwhile, Jaime embarks on a suicidal mission.





	1. A bitter sunrise

The wintry sun spilt a  harsh light across the chamber floor. Brienne grunted softly and sat up, yawning. She had forgotten the events of the previous night until she looked expectantly beside her, only to find an empty space, the imprint of his head still fresh on the pillow. Instantly the comfort and security of early morning naivety shattered around her and the painful events of the night returned to her in a torrent. The cold winter night air, the all too familiar look in his eyes she could never quite pin down, the damned beat of hooves against the frozen ground  and a silhouette passing through the castle gates.  Brienne never cried. She taught herself to be strong and unnerved, and tears were too clear a confirmation of weakness. But last night she cried and cried until her throat was raw and her head throbbing and her limbs sapped of energy, before exhaustion and sleep took her. She was strong, but not strong enough for this.

She dragged herself out of bed and over to a table where a clean change of clothes had been left for her. She undressed and slipped the cool linen on, wincing at the month-old injuries she had sustained but not quite healed from. Shrouding herself in a robe of fur she stepped out into the open air of the balcony overlooking the courtyard.

She didn't know exactly what it was she was hoping for- she longed to stay in bed and give in to the incomprehensible weight in her chest , but watching the everyday quiet bustle of winterfell helped occupy her, give her senses something new yet familiar.  The same bitter morning light exposed the courtyard below. A few weeks ago , brienne thought she'd never see the sun again. She hadn't expected to live, but as an abstract notion, yes, she wanted to. She barely knew it at the time but the distant idea of sitting and laughing with ser Jaime at the end of the long night by a warm hearth was what kept her sword in her hand. She was ready to lose anything, ready to be drowned in a sea of the dead, ready to see those she loves and respects die in front of her and eventually have the light fade from her own eyes, but there was nothing in the world that could've prepared her for what she lost last night. And as she stood in the bleak aftermath, more alone than she had ever felt in her life, she wished nothing more than for her to have never survived at all. To have such strong faith in something to the point where you give your entire heart to it, only to have it taken from you in seconds- that pain, brienne decided, was worse than having nothing at all. 

Never had the sun seemed so cruel, so mocking. 

Below, pod clashed training swords with the kennelmasters son while servant girls giggled from the sidelines. She had grown to see pod as her protege- her figurative younger brother, or even son- and seeing him so confident  and matured made her almost feel like smiling. 

"Ser Brienne." A familiar steely voice came from her side. Brienne turned to lady Sansa, bowing her head.

"My lady. Did you sleep well?"

Sansa smirked, but in her eyes was a hint of warmth. "As well as you can, really." Brienne felt that. She gripped the railing, thoughtfully looking over the castle grounds. Brienne looked at her. She reminded her uncannily of Lady Catelyn- the same fiery red hair, pragmatic and somewhat distant expression, jaw set like stone, cold and calculating eyes. To serve her, she thought, was an honour she wasn't sure she deserved. 

"Have you seen ser Jaime, perchance?" 

Brienne winced and averted her eyes. "Yes, my lady." She kept staring straight ahead as sansa turned her head towards her. "He left last night for kings landing." Her voice grew smaller and more hoarse with every word. It hurt to say out loud, to make it real, to make it more than a bizarre nightmare. _Its real. Youve said it. You cant run from it now_  . She was careful not to look at her so as to not show any signs of what she was feeling – she was good at hiding her emotions, but this wasnt a usual situation, and sansa wasnt a usual subject to decieve.

“I'm not sure what he'll find there. According to jon, the mother of dragons is on the brink of burning the city to the ground.”

Brienne was grateful for the change of subject, even to such a morbid and imposing topic. She guessed sansa did this deliberately- she was smart enough to know when or when not to push a conversation.

“Ive always had divided loyalties, you know that.” Sansa continued with a sigh. “I would like to believe that she will do as she says- break the wheel and bring a more peaceful time to westeros without shedding innocent blood as means. But she has the quick temper and temperament of a targeryen, and there's only so much you can do to suppress who you are.”

“What it really depends on, my lady, is how much you trust jons judgement.” Brienne suggested, finally looking her in the eyes.

“I suppose so. I do trust him to make the right decisions, but I fear his love for the queen is clouding his abilities. Im not certain hes entirely sure what he believes himself.” She snorted and looked over the grounds, a slight smile on her face. “Sometimes I wish you were in his place. I trust your judgement, brienne, more than anyone.”

Brienne laughed. “What, daenerys' lover and rival? I hardly think that likely, my lady.” She paused, going over her lady's words. “You trust my judgement more than anyone?” her voice was not much more than a whisper. Sansa gave her a look. Her icy, piercing eyes made it hard for her peers to feel comfortable around her, but her face was wrought with concern and kindness, and brienne realised her entire body had been stiff since she had woken up. She peeled briennes hands off the railing and held them in her own. The coldness of her skin was shocking.

“I trust you, brienne.” She smiled. “I trust you because you haven't ever let me down or any of the others you have served. I dont believe you have ever incorrectly judged a person and their motivations. You are truly the most honourable and just person I have met.” Brienne felt her face flush. Her lady was too kind to her. She had made a mistake – trusting jaime with something precious to her, trusting the oathbreaker, right before he...

Brienne stopped her train of thought. There was no point feeling sorry for herself so. _Men have always betrayed you_ , she found herself thinking. _Why would this one be any different_? And yet, she was still somewhat hopeful. Hopeful her lady was right and brienne had not been wrong to see good in him. Hopeful jaime hadn't gone into her chambers that night for a quick fuck to unburden the weight of the battle before riding back home to his sister. Hopeful he had lied to her.

But this was pointless, she noted, just as pointless as agonising over the details of his departure. She had forgotten how to not expect a happy ending, and now she had to remember. “I'm afraid you overestimate me, my lady.” She let her hands drop to her side. “I have been a fool.” She paused and looked south pensively. “He's a hateful man.” she said after a long pause, her voice barely audible, as if she hadn't spoken in days. And with that she retired to her chamber.


	2. A blunder into darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaime begins his journey to kings landing.

Jaime rode as fast as he could. He wanted to put as much distance between him and winterfell, _him and brienne_ , as possible before he changed his mind. The wind whistled around him and his mount, drying the unwelcome tears from his face, and an impenetrable darkness cloaked him and the road. He had decided he would ride for an hour before stopping to find somewhere discreet to sleep. He had to be careful while on the road- he would ride by night and sleep by day, as the guise of the black winter nights would give him an advantage. He would make sure to camp well away from any people and minimise interaction as much as possible. If the wrong person saw his hand or his face, he would be dead, and it would all be for nothing.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was planning. He only knew, for certain, if no-one else does he has to kill his twin sister. He was almost certain he would die with her, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. For the people. For the realm. _For her._

Jaime had realised before he left that Brienne was the most important thing to him. He had tried to stop this eventuality- he was never fond of things growing on him, much less people. In a world under the shadow of deaths palm, you have to be careful what you invest in, and even remotely vulnerable people are a terrible and dangerous investment. But while Cersei lives, his fate is entwined with hers, and he would rather die than pull Brienne into the thick of it. While his twin, lover and dark side breathes the same air as him, she will take advantage of any opportunity to make him miserable- especially now, after what he had done.

Jaime had little faith in a happy ending. He had learnt not to believe in happy endings. All he could hope for, he decided, was keeping brienne safe. But perhaps even that was wishful thinking.

He tugged on his reins and the horse came to a light trot. He guided his mount off the road, down a soft downwards slope to the forest below. The trees around him were shadows, the snow under his feet only slightly luminous under the subdued moonlight. Carefully he moved through the forest until he was a decent distance from the road and slid off his horse. He walked further downhill into the depths of the forest, looking for a ditch or a rotten tree to sleep in. He would have to sacrifice comfort for security, but that wasn't something he hadn't done before.

Eventually he came across a shallow dimple in the ground partially hidden by a fell pine tree. Gently, the knight guided his horse into the ditch, sinking knee deep into the crisp snow. He had brought little provisions with him. Just his sword, widows wail, a simple dagger, a black cloak with a detachable fur lining, some scraps of dried meat and a fur and a cotton spread. He wanted to keep his burden light for fast and unhindered travel: he hadn't even brought fire-lighting material - if he wanted to keep safe, that was something he could not treat himself with. As long as he kept himself well disguised, he decided he could afford the luxury of one or two nights in an inn further down the road. With significant difficulty, he undid the fastenings on his saddle and let the sheets fall into the snow - part of him wished he had brienne here to help him, and as he caught himself thinking that, his heart dropped a few centimeters more into his stomach.

 _Shes safe_ , he told himself. _She cant be safe with you._ He straightened his back and exhaled, as if that would somehow get rid of the weight on his shoulders. It didn't. He rolled the cotton sheet onto the snow, doubling it over so he had some chance of not being soaked by the icy bed in what remained of the night, and then hauled the spread over his makeshift camp and, lowering himself, pulled the fur over his body. The snow sunk with the weight of his body beneath him. He exhaled with a rattle in his throat. He pulled both his cloak and his fur tightly around him, conserving the little heat he had.

Gods, he hated the north. But the cold wasnt the only thing keeping him awake. Thoughts of brienne came to him intrusively. Her face, wretched with a sort of pain he hadn't ever witnessed before, as he kept his eyes wide open so he wouldn't blink out a tear. He didnt deserve her. Perhaps thats why he left - out of self hatred rather than sacrifice. To give himself the satisfaction of knowing he would deprive someone he cares for of his abominable presence. He couldn't even pray for forgiveness. All he could hope for now was keeping her alive. He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing. It wasn't something he was used to. He had lived with the guilt of what he had done for cersei, for himself - trying to kill a 7 year old boy, murdering his own cousin, killing countless in their name. But this guilt was different - it consumed his entire body, it festered uncontrollably in his mind, and he was sure it would always be a part of him.

But it doesn't matter now. He'll be dead in weeks if he's lucky, days if he's not. Killing cersei or dying trying was all the redemption he could hope for. And perhaps he would be remembered as goldenhand the just, the finisher of tyrants, rather than kingslayer, the man without honour. He had learnt not to care about titles. When you face certain death, its all you can really hope for, but after the onslaught of the dead he had realised just how trivial legacy is. He would be lucky if there was anyone around to remember him as those things. And as he lay there, tightly wrapped in fur with the image of brienne still lingering in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.


	3. An impossibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brienne occupies herself. she confronts the impossible.

Brienne tightly fastened the last of the ties on her breastplate. Usually, she would have Podrick do it- not because she couldn't do it herself, but just to give him the satisfaction of fulfilling his squirely duties- but she couldn't face anyone at the moment, not even him. She caught a glimpse of herself on the polished silver hanging on the wall. She almost looked like she had died in the battle after all. Her eyes were sunken and lifeless, stained with red and blue from wakeful nights. Her skin was pallid and wax-like and her worry lines more prominent than ever, and her now almost chin length hair hung limply around her temples. With a sigh she walked into the winter air and made her way towards the castle gate.

Sansa had ordered her to go with a small party - there were very little capable riders left in Winterfell, now that Jon had left - to scout the damaged parts of the wall. A pointless errand, Brienne was sure; there was little need for the wall, now that the night king had been defeated, but Brienne recognised and appreciated Sansa's intentions. She was giving her an opportunity to get away from the scenery Brienne had been stuck with for over 2 months and keep herself busy with her duty, and she was grateful for that. Anything to stop her from thinking about _him_.

Podrick was sitting on a small wall by the gate with 2 men in black which Brienne took to be a couple of the remaining members of the nights watch, polishing his sword and chatting jovially. As she approached the two anonymous men fell silent, staring at her with awe.Pod followed their eyes and gave Brienne a smile and an energetic "good morning," used to the shock factor of her stature and manner, but detecting the exhaustion writ on her face quickly quietened down. Brienne was prone to snapping at him when in a bad mood and he was respectful enough not to aggravate her.

"Where are the horses?" she said flatly.

"Bert is getting them from the stables now." Podrick indicated with a glance towards an obscured part of the yard. "Hes coming with us, with Lee and Gaillard."

"Ser Brienne." Lee and Gaillard gave her a half bow, their mouths still agape. Brienne smiled warily, even though smiling was the last thing she felt like doing, and shook their hands once they had risen. "No need for formalities, please."

A short, plump character, barely on the cusp of manhood, waddled towards them with the reins of 5 horses. Brienne mounted the largest one with ease, and watched with amusement as Gaillard and Bert struggled. They flitted one by one through the small opening in the gate and began northwards.

They rode with a soft canter into the forest-covered lands of the north. Podrick rode silently beside her. She appreciated the acknowledgment of boundaries, but secretly hoped for a conversation to keep her mind occupied. Instead her thoughts roamed free, much to her annoyance. She wondered where Jaime was now and what he was planning. She was almost certain he planned to return to the queen, but she wasn't sure if she'd have him back- after his treasonous betrayal, it would be characteristic of her to execute him on sight. Something unpleasant stirred in her gut at that thought. _No_ , she thought, _hes still alive._ He hadn't been gone long enough to reach kings landing and she knew he wasn't daft enough to die on the road.

She backtracked on her inner dialogue. _Its not your concern anymore_ , she said to herself. _He didn't choose life, and you can't choose for him_. She had thought what she had been through would be enough to understand not to depend on others, men most of all. She hated herself for ever believing in foolish bliss that her time with Jaime wouldn't end. She had become as soft as butter because of him, and because of him she had caused her own destruction.

"Ser." she snapped out of her melancholy trance. Podrick was looking ahead. They had reached a bubbling stream, and the bridge had partially collapsed into the rocky torrents below, presumably some time during the battle. Brienne slid off her horse and walked to the riverbank. She picked up a stick and crouching, slid it into the water- it was murky and impossible to tell how deep the stream was.

She rose. "We'll have to wade across." Her voice was thick and hoarse. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat. "The water's shallow enough if we go on our horses." She walked back to her mount and led the stallion into the muddy channel, with the party following behind her. The horse reluctantly stepped into the stream and trotted across and back up the opposite bank. The procession followed and they continued on the road.

* * *

After about an hour of silent journeying the canopy of trees began to thin above them and Brienne caught a glance of the wall. She had seen it before, but its sheer size didn't fail to take her breath away. It loomed over the party, impossibly tall, almost following the curvature of the sky. It gleamed in the white midday sun and Brienne had to strain her eyes to look at it. Truly one of the most magnificent works of man, she thought to herself. Though now with the white walkers and the night king gone, it would surely be left to slowly melt down into a rather large puddle. She felt a small piece of gratitude, despite the circumstances, to be alive to see it. Brienne guided the company eastwards to where the night king had ambushed the wall.

As they rode the wall slowly began to wither, with chunks of ice as big as castles shattered on the ground before them and what remained of the wall sloped and softened from the dragons fiery breath. Brienne stopped and slid off her horse, the others following her lead.

"Ser Brienne, do you permit us to start a fire? We haven't eaten since daybreak, I'm quite good at hunting, i'm sure theres a rabbit or two around here." Gaillards voice came from behind her.

"Hm? yes, sure." She replied absently. "You can do that. I'm going for a walk." She needed to clear her head. Or cry, or both.

All throughout their journey and, truthfully, the past week since Jaime had left, she hadn't managed to shake the lingering image of him in his mind. She didn't know it was possible to remember a persons face in such vivid detail. She could only repress it so much. Shoulders limp, she wandered into the forest. Once the trees had thickened around her she collapsed onto a large root, burying her face in her hands. Around her, birds sang and the wind whistled between the trees. She silently cursed the continuity of nature.

Footsteps she had not heard before grew louder as someone approached to her right. Instinctively she grabbed the hilt of her sword, before looking up at a concerned looking Podrick. She exhaled and gave her best effort at a smile.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, ser, but i didn't want to leave you alone." He sat beside her, staring at her stony face intently. "We haven't talked properly since, you know, and i just wanted to say that i'm sorry."

"Podrick, you have nothing to be sorry for. I was foolish. I judged someone incorrectly and i must reap what i sow."

"I'm not sure if thats entirely true, ser Brienne." She looked at him. He was studying the back of his hands, flushing, scared to doubt his sire. "Forgive me for saying so, but i think he has a plan. I'm almost sure of it."

 _He_. His name was too painful for Podrick to dare say and too painful for Brienne to hear. Brienne sighed doubtfully. Her next words stung like a knife to the throat. "He hasn't changed. He still loves her. He said it himself." She could no longer control herself. A tear pricked her eye and fell down her cheek. She brushed it away, hoping Podrick hadn't seen.

He turns towards her and places a tentative hand on her own. "If that is true, then he was almost certainly lying." He insisted. Brienne met his eyes. They were soft, and kind, and full of conviction. "He respects you greatly, brienne, and admires you even more. I've never seen anything like it. He might not make it obvious, but he can't hide it completely, and his face shifts when he looks at you." He leaned forward and spoke his next words slowly and surely. "He can't be with you while she's alive, brienne. She'll have you killed and he knows that. He has to deal with her first."

Brienne was doubtful. And yet, a small warmth sprouted in her chest, but was immediately quelled by the darkness she carried. _He's trying to comfort you, brienne, thats what people do. Jaime doesn't care about you. And even if he does, you won't ever see him again._

She gave podrick a small smile despite herself. "I hope you're right. But i'm not hopeful." With that, she stood up with a soft sigh. "We have to get back, pod. I wouldn't be surprised if they've managed to get themselves killed by now."

They began trudging back towards the wall. As they approached the edge of the forest, podrick stopped. "Ser? you might want to see this."

He kicked the snow off of something concealed in the thicket. Brienne approached. At first, brienne thought it some sort of sheath encrusted with emeralds. Such colour was uncharacteristic of anything this far from the south. But as she looked closer, she saw the distinctive glistening green scales of a snake.

She inhaled sharply. She had never seen or even heard of a snake beyond the borders of the north, or even south in the winter. And yet here it was, a brilliant deep green against the white snow. She moved the snow concealing the serpents head. Its neck was crushed underneath a rock, which brienne assumed was what killed it. The startling red of blood made patterns in its colourless bed.


	4. a touch of warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaime receives unsettling news.

In the looming darkness ahead a small light winked. Jaime had left the kings road about an hour ago. He was tired of riding and tired of incessantly chewing on what might as well be leather, so he decided to treat himself to a bath, a hearth and a proper meal. He had to find somewhere a decent distance from the road - he wouldn't be sure if someone from a closer inn wouldn't recognise him from a previous journey to the north, even with his hood pulled over his face.

As the light grew nearer and jaime began to hear the chatter and laughter of tuesday-night drunkards, he stopped and pulled out his cloak. He wrung his golden hand, already sheathed with a glove, and cautiously tugged the thick black fabric over his eyes. He tied his horse to a tree and began towards the inn. As he approached he caught his reflection in a blackened window. The cloak was a hardly necessary addition- his hair, hanging unkempt over his face, darkened just from 2 weeks of accumulated dirt, and his now scraggly beard were enough of a disguise. He approached the inn and passed through the threshold.

The heat hit him like a brick wall. He felt his skin slacken and the uncomfortable sting of cold he had grown accustomed to faded. The inn was half lit, with a low ceiling jaime guessed hadn't been brushed down in years and rotten wooden beams. Dark characters sat at the tables with half their pints of ale dripping down their front, talking about their mistresses or harvests or whatever else the smallfolk spent their time doing. Jaime approached the bar. "Whatever food you have, please. And i would like to stay the night, any room will do." He spoke with a voice much rougher than his own and was careful not to raise his chin. He collapsed onto a bar stool. He was horribly sore from non-stop riding and the minimal comforts of the inn were more than welcome.

A grim looking bowl of stew was placed in front of him. Jaime couldn't possibly guess what was in it, but grateful for a warm meal shoveled it down enthusiastically. The warm broth and meat was an amazing comfort to him.

Jaime remembered the last time he had a warm meal. It had been the same night he left. He had sat in the great hall, brienne opposite him and podrick beside him.

 _Brienne_. He cursed himself for entertaining himself with memories. He had almost managed to suppress the image of her entirely. A lump re-emerged in his throat and he stopped eating, suddenly losing his appetite. Brienne. He wished, of all things, he had appreciated the little time they had together more. On the road, he didn't have her smile, or her warm, secure arms, or her eyes, a more brilliant blue than the seas of tarth. Those little things was all he had, and he savored them desperately. Those short weeks of happiness, right before the plunge into darkness and doom.

A small part of him hoped he would return. Hoped that those short moments were not all he was given after all, and perhaps he could spend the rest of his life with her smile, her arms, her eyes. He quickly squashed that thought. _There was no place for hope now_ , he thought, _at the end of all things. No hope but the hope of giving her a future._

"....looks like that mad bitch will keep the throne after all!"

jaime suddenly tuned in to a conversation to his left. Three men sat smirking into their flagons. He had been staring into his bowl since he sat down, completely absent from his surroundings, until the word "throne" leapt out at him. Had he heard correctly? keep the throne?

He decided to take his chance. "Excuse me, what did you say?" The man closest to him- face covered in craters and warts- looks at him as if he had just asked him to kiss him. "You 'aven't 'eard? That silver-headed wench is dead. 'Er dragon 'as fucked off too. She's gone and'er bastard boyfriend is done for. They've lost."

Dread crushed him in his seat. The drunken laughs and shouts of his companions faded into white noise. The breath was knocked out of his lungs and a tension enveloped his entire body.

They've lost.

They've lost. Brienne isn't safe anymore. Now that she's dealt with daenerys, he and brienne are next on her list of priorities. It was all for nothing. He was too late. He tried to do one good thing, and he couldn't even do that properly.

He choked and warmth flooded from his eyes. There was no use hiding the dread on his face. He staggered to his feet and tore through the crowds to the door. Tears marred the warm lights of the inn cast on the gravel below.

The window for him to save brienne was closing around him by the second. The only chance he had now would be to get to cersei before she begins thinking about revenge. He blundered towards his horse and fumbled with the rope tying it to the tree, his hand shaking uncontrollably. Frustrated, he pulled out his dagger and clumsily cut the rope from its bindings. He practically jumped on his horse and started, as fast as he could possibly push his horse to go, southwards, back towards the kings road. All exhaustion had faded from him in a desperate rush to keep her safe. All he could see now was a red dawn and cersei, white as a sheet, with a ribbon of blue around her neck. 

**Author's Note:**

> so uh!! im writing this instead of studying for my exam tomorrow oof - im gonna try my hardest to finish it before the episode comes out but if i don't manage it'll be canon-divergent from the end of episode 4. If there are some grammatical errors its bc im writing it as quickly as possible. Really angsty but it gets better, i promise ^-^  
> Also - if you recognise this fic, thats because i had published the first chapter beforehand but wanted to redo some bits so im re-publishing it hehe


End file.
